Berthor before the fall
by Tilthanial
Summary: What happened to Berethor before the Nazgul got a hold of him?


Berethor anxiously watched the waters. An eerie mist had settled over the river dividing Osgiliath. His men checked their weapons behind him as they prepared for the coming assault. Fear shone in their eyes every time they looked to him for guidance.

He brushed aside his own thoughts and craned his neck forward. The unmistakable stench of orc filled his nostrils. A slight ripple disturbed the water ahead of him and his worst fears were confirmed. The orc shad finally come.

Water splashed everywhere when the orc vessels hit the rocky beach. Berethor smiled grimly and strode into plain view, daring them to attack. His men followed suit, brandishing their weapons at the leering horde. Orcs cringed in fear at Berethor's war cry.

"For Gondor!"

The archers exchanged a hasty volley and dove for cover as the lines surged forward. The orc arrows whistled past Berethor's head and stuck deep into one of his men's shields. He heard his archers curse in anger as their shots missed their marks. Then the lines clashed. A mighty orc captain bulled his way towards Berethor, intent on making a quick kill. A well-handled spear thrust caught the captain in the shoulder, pinning him to a wall. Berethor finished him off with a flourish of his sword. To his left he saw a pair of soldiers bring down another foul orc with a flurry of steel. No time could be spent savoring the moment, for a sly orc bashed aside two of his men with a sturdy swing of its mace.

Stray arrows flew into the melee, but none found targets. A gallant warrior fell beneath a flood of orcs. Further along the line, a single orc shrugged off two soldiers with inhuman ease and turned them back. But Berethor had other matters on his mind as he narrowly avoided a mortal blow. His sword, however, fell true, slaying the orc on the spot.

The Gondorians began to falter with the loss of one of their own. Grabbing his banner carrier, Berethor rushed back into the fray to deny the orcs any possible opportunity. His men rallied behind him and tried to beat back the orc tide. The orcs held on grimly, losing two but halting the others. Berethor crowed victoriously and urged his men on as his feet hit the water's edge.

Out of the beached boat sprang a trio of fresh orcs. They piled eagerly into the battle, scenting the spilt human blood. Alas, their eagerness proved their allies undoing. Jolted by the unexpected push from behind, three orcs fell victim to thirsty Gondorian blades. The orcs fought on undaunted. Another boat landed on the beach, disgorging six fresh orcs into the battle. The extra weight brought down a second soldier in the blink of an eye. The man's comrade roared out in rage and struck down one of the orcs. Two others fell before the combined might of a trio of Gondorian warriors.

The tide favored the Gondorians until yet a third boat landed. Eight orcs spewed out of the rickety craft and encircled Berethor's band. The other warriors cried out in fear and struck down four of the orcs surrounding them. But Berethor began to see that his men were failing. Three men fell limp on the ground as their weapons slipped from exhaustion. One of the men shrieked in pain as a pair of orcs descended on him with snarls of hunger. Not all was against them, however. Berethor's banner man bashed an orc in the face with his flag-staff, killing it instantly.

Then even more orcs poured in. The Gondorian archers dropped their exhausted quivers and joined the fray, striking down a pair of orcs between them. As a horde of orcs launched themselves into the tired Gondorians, Berethor and the man beside him suffered an overwhelming wave of blows. His comrade collapsed with a spear in his side, but Berethor fought on, bleeding from a wound in his leg. The orcs finally wavered as his men hurled themselves desperately at the invaders. An archer and one of Berethor's last companions fell in return for three orcs. Berethor himself slew two of them, lashing out with all of his strength.

The orcs retreated into their boats, cowering in fear. Berethor's men cheered wearily at their respite, however long it would be. Berethor lifted his sword in the air and shouted out his war cry, daring the hordes of Mordor to return. The terrified screams of his men and the harsh, grating caw of the Nazgul's mounts were the last things he heard.


End file.
